Life's Ups and Downs
by Rainbows n' Pixie Dust
Summary: Sequel to Running Away, Prequel to Coming Home - Takes place after Draco's proposal. With the wedding coming up and the house project on and running simultaneously with their little romance, Hermione and Draco both face issues neither imagined as they took the step off onto their shared road. Fights and apologies, hurting words and loving kisses, lies and hugs.
1. New Year's Photo

_**Here you go you lovely people, you have no idea how important you guys are to me ;) Sorry I'm kinda busy with this crazy book I'm writing, I just hit over 50 000 words and more is coming 3 thought I'd share that :) This fanfiction writing thing is like practice for the real deal :)**_

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_**Draco's POV**_

_"Will you marry me, Hermione Jean Granger?" I asked. Her eyes glistened in the candlelight. "Yes." She whispered through her tears. _

It had been six days since that incident. Or should I say event. We had celebrated the holidays in quiet ways, reading in front of the fireplace, cooking different sorts of sweets and such, walking for hours outside in the snow, exchanging loving kisses and caresses.

I came home, dusting my clothes of the snow and hanging them in the alcove before walking into the living room.

Hermione was sitting on the couch, reading a book with her feet on the table. There was a half finished coffee and a plate with cookie crumbs on the table. The fire crackled and sent warm rays of light into the living room.

"Hello." I said. She lifted her gaze from her book dreamily.

"Hello." she replied with a smile.

I went over to the couch and sat beside her, cuddling her under my arm. "Are you in a reading mood or not?"

She chuckled. "Actually, I was waiting for you." She reached over and placed the book on the table. "Was it cold outside?" I didn't reply, only engulfed her into a hug.

It really hadn't been cold, but I didn't mind it when she hugged me tighter. In comparison to myself, who'd been outside for hours, she was much warmer. I pulled her completely into my lap and kissed her forehead, her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, her lips.

"You warmer now?" She asked as we lay there, her head on my chest.

"Yes. Thank you."

Hermione buried her face deeper into my chest and squeezed. Then she sighed. "You know...about the wedding."

I looked at her. "Hm?"

"When do you want to have it?"

I thought about it for a moment. "We don't need to rush, that's all I know."

"Would July 7th be alright?"

Clearly she had put some thought to it. "Why July 7th?" I asked her.

"It's the day my parents died in that car accident." She said. I gave her a questioning look. "It was an end of one time period for me. Now I want it to be a new beginning. To show that I can move on. They won't come back. And I think it'll be the best respect for their memories to have my wedding on their wedding day."

"They died on their wedding day?"

Hermione's eyes held such sorrow I had to hug her tight. "It's okay. We can do that. If you want to." I murmured into her ear.

"It means a lot to me." She mumbled. I watched the fire and let my thoughts roam free for probably an hour or so, and during that time Hermione's breathing had steadied and I knew she was sleeping. I glanced at the clock. 11:39.

I kissed Hermione's forehead gently and rubbed her back. "Hermione...time to wake up..." Her eyelids slowly fluttered open and she yawned. "What time is it?"

"Eleven forty. Twenty minutes to go. Let's get going." We hurried over to the alcove and pulled on our shoes, jackets, beanies and gloves. I let Hermione go first, so I could take the two bottles of butterbeer and the camera into my pocket without her knowing.

We arrived to the hill in front of Guiliano just in time. Everyone was gathering there, from little children to the elders. Everyone was there. It was new year's night. It was magical. The sea was calm, and the clear sky and the moon reflected from it perfectly. It was a crispy, chilly night, but nobody seemed to care.

"3...2...1...happy new year! Happy new millennia!" The crowd around us yelled, as well as we did. Then I gripped Hermione from the waist and kissed her. From the corner of my eye I could see many other couples do so, the little kids giggling and kissing each others on the cheek.

"Happy new year." I whispered. I was leaning my forehead gently onto hers, our nose tips touching. "Happy new year." She replied.

"We're starting a new millennia together." I stated.

"This was the first new year I kissed someone at midnight, you know." I was surprised. I had expected Weasel or even Krum to do so.

"Well, I am glad to be your first. And hopefully I'll be your last." I said. I glanced William, a twelve-year-old boy who I'd asked to take our picture as the year changed. He winked at me and slipped the camera into my pocket. I winked back and handed him the three sickles as I had promised. He hopped away happily. I took Hermione's hand and we went a bit forward and sat onto the sand to watch the fireworks, sipping our butterbeers.

When we got home, Hermione sleepily climbed the stairs and literally collapsed into bed within minutes. I remained downstairs for a while, preparing my little surprise for her. I got the picture from midnight and put it into the frames, to which I had carved the message with my own little magical skills. When I thought I was finally done, I tiptoed upstairs and crawled into bed beside her, and soon sleep took me away as well.

"Oh dear..." She said, her hand on her chest. I had brought her downstairs to the kitchen, and the second she had seen my surprise she had said that. She turned to face me. "You did this?"

I nodded and hugged her. Hermione pulled away from me and walked to the table, on which was the picture and a flower bouquet. She picked up the photo, and traced the frame with her finger.

"I hope this new beginning has no end. D & H." She said quietly. I saw a tear slip onto her cheek, and quickly brushed it away with my thumb. "Don't cry."

"I'm happy." She replied softly. Her eyes gazed at the photo, where her and I kissed each other, the fireworks flashing behind us. I chuckled and went over to the fridge to get out ingredients for our breakfast.

. . .

It was night, and I was in our bed, kissing Hermione. It had began with an innocent good nights' kiss, to which Hermione had responded with more passion than I had expected. I had touched her breasts gently, and she had hugged me tighter. I didn't know whether I should stop myself or not before something happened. Something more than a kiss.

She solved my problems by pulling away abruptly. "I can't do this, Draco. I just...can't."

I kissed her arm gently. "You don't need to, not before you're ready. I'll wait just as long as you want."

She looked at me. "I feel like I'm disappointing you."

"I'm not expecting you to be able to yet. It's only been two months. I don't want to force you to do something you're not completely comfortable with."

"But I don't know if I ever will." She whimpered.

"Then I'll be fine with just gentle kisses and caresses. I won't stop loving you if you don't want to have sex. It's just one part of a relationship, one fraction of the whole picture."

"But without that one fraction it won't be perfect."

"It doesn't need to be perfect. It can be just right for us." I said, snaking my arms around her waist and spooning her. She sighed and shifted a bit so she felt better. "You're too good for me, you know that right? You could get any girl, and you choose me. A girl who has physical and mental problems and who can't go two weeks without waking up screaming and then crying for hours." She muttered.

"If it were too easy to get it would be easy to let go." I smiled at her.


	2. Hey love, guess what?

Hello readers. I'm warning you now. This will make no fucking sense to you unless you read my previous story. You have been warned.

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**Hermione's POV**

Draco was too good for me. I knew he wanted me, and I knew I wanted him too. But I just couldn't get over the barrier. But he always smiled and was nice to me, loving, caring. I fear that one day he'll just get fed up with it and gather his bags and leave.

It was a dream, living in Guiliano. Everyone was so nice. And it was such a charming little town.

I had bought myself a notebook. It had dark blue leather covers, with silvery lining running along the edges. It would be my wedding planner. From the same store I had bought a larger book, with empty pages and leafy green leather covers with golden leaves running along the side and back. It was our house log. It had been there since day 1 in our house, and we wrote all the accidents, additions, glued pictures and wrote our feelings of the house into the book. On the first page we had the resident's page, where Draco and I had written our names and put our photos.

The empty hall that ran from the alcove to the staircase was too small to turn into any kind of room, but it was actually Draco who came up with an idea of what to do with it. We began hanging photos on the wall - a photo of the house, our photo from the new years', our own photos and such. There was a total of five photos on the walls. For now.

We had already decided we'd have the wedding in the little church of Guiliano. A few days after Draco proposing to me, we went to the church and made it official - in the catholic way. The reception would be here, and we already knew we'd invite all our friends - so basically the whole town. I had already drawn out a simple plan of how I wanted the church to look like - lots of flowers and floating candles. Draco had agreed that I would get to design the most, with him giving me ideas and guidelines. He wasn't that fond of designing indoors. Outdoors was his thing.

I sighed and put the planner down. My thought just didn't run at the moment. I rubbed at my temples and went over to the fridge to get something to drink. When I shut the door I suddenly felt Draco's lips on mine, and sighing of pleasure, I put the milk carton down. "Hey love." He said huskily. I chuckled and poured myself a glass of milk. "Hello."

"What, no "hey love" for me?"

"Hello, love." I said, tapping his nose. He chuckled and suddenly tickled my sides. I yelped and tried to get away from him, but he grabbed my waist and pulled me into him. I sighed and looked up at him as he smiled victoriously. "I win, what's my prize?" I grabbed the back of his head and pulled it closer. He chuckled and kissed me again. I was practically leaning onto him, trusting that he wouldn't let go and drop me to the cold stone floor. Soon he pushed me up to my feet and I managed to put the milk back into the fridge.

"What's making you so happy today?"

Draco looked at me, his eyes twinkling. "I got a job."

I looked at him. "Really? That's great!"

"I'll be starting as a part-time outdoor designer." He continued. I laughed and hugged him tight. "But I won't kiss you if you have soil all over yourself." I said seriously. He chuckled and promised he'd have a shower before he gave me a kiss. "Let's celebrate this." He said. "I'll give you fifteen minutes to get ready for a romantic dinner." I gave him a smile and then hurried up the stairs. I got my outfit, a champagne coloured strapless silk dress that reached up to my knee, cute sandal-like high-heels and a bit of jewellery, then disappeared into the bathroom to fix my hair and wash up. I tied my hair up into a neat bun from which I let a few strands fall freely. I fixed a light creamy flower-hair piece onto the side and then pulled the dress on. The make-up I put on was very light - a bit of black and pearly eyeshadow and eyeliner as well as mascara and some powder. I strapped my shoes on and put the necklace and matching earrings on before heading out, grabbing a small purse and my essentials, meaning my wand and a few tissues, on the way. I reached the front door to find Draco standing there, wearing beige pants, a white button-up shirt and a blazer with it's sleeves rolled up. He gave me a smile and offered me his arm. "Let's go, shall we, madam?" I returned his smile and took his arm, and together we apparated to the outskirts of Rome.

From there we took a cab and soon found ourselves in front of a small restaurant, a very old rock building covered with vines. We went in and I found that Draco had reserved us a table for two. Again proof of his romantic side. After ordering we sat in our seats, talking about the past events happily.

The night was marvellous, and when we left the restaurant both of us agreed to go for a little walk around.

We were on a seemingly empty alley, when I suddenly heard someone walk behind us.

"Hermione?" I froze, and so did Draco. I knew that voice too well to not know it. "Hermione, I know it's you." I turned around hastily and faced my tormentor.

"What do you want, Ron?" I sighed.

"Stop playing this game, Hermione. I know you love me."

I felt Draco tense beside me. "She loves me, you bastard." He snarled, his grip of my hand tight. Though it hurt, I felt glad that he was there.

"You're lying. That lying whore doesn't deserve even such scum as yourself." Ron sneered. Then he slapped me. Draco yelled and punched Ron straight in the face, then turned to help me up. Ron kicked Draco, but instead of wincing Draco drew his wand and pointed it at Ron. "How dare you."

But Ron ignored him, pointing his words at me. "How dare you. Loving...this ferret. After all I did for you! Nobody loves you, not even him! I doubt he even really cares for you. He's just using you, whore." His words hurt just as much as he would've been punching me, and I felt something shatter inside me and something else awake. Something that hadn't been awake for a month. A wonderful month.

_He's right, you know. You deserve nothing. You are nothing. _

I grimaced and tried to ignore the voice inside my head, it's voice as sharp and painful as a knife cutting my skin. "You shattered our dreams, your dreams, everyone's! You tried to destroy my life." He spat. Then he pulled out his wand.

Before the spell could escape his lips, had Draco already counteracted and disarmed him. His arm moved past my eyes and caught the wand of his.

"Stupefy." He said quietly.

It was as though I was somewhere else. I heard and saw everything, but it was faint, like a shadow or an echo.

Draco rushed up to Ron and quickly obliviated him, then dragged the unconscious pest into the side alley and put his wand into his hand. During all that time, I just stood there, in the cold, chilly night, my arms crossed and my gaze empty.

At some point Draco came over, and even through my daze I heard concern in his voice. I couldn't recall what he said, but he grabbed me gently by the shoulders and we apparated back home.

He led me straight upstairs and pushed me into the bathroom. He soon came back and handed me a pair of pyjamas, and I quickly washed up and changed into it. When I pushed the door open, I found Draco standing there, his eyes filled with worry.

"Are you alright?"

I smiled weakly. "I'm fine. Just shocked." My voice sounded hollow, and the sound was left echoing in my head as I headed back to our bed.

It was a lie. But I didn't want to give him another topic of concern. I could battle this alone. I promised that much to myself as I drifted off into sleep. And how horrid those dreams of mine were.


	3. So apparently I'm a teddy bear

**I'm a cruel person, aren't I? **

**Leaving all of you lovelies hanging there.**

**I'm sorry, here's a cookie O**

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**Draco's POV**

As I got up and turned around, I saw her. And what I saw shattered me badly. Her eyes hollow, her figure small and, well...fragile. The look on her face was what I hadn't seen in a month. And I dearly wished I would've never, ever in my life had to see it.

"Hermione? Are you alright?"

She didn't reply, so I just walked up to her and grabbed her gently by the shoulders. She followed me sheepishly to our house, and I made sure she was okay before going to sleep myself. But in the dead of night I woke up to her screaming, and cursed that very day that Weasel ever ended up in Rome.

Groaning, I shot up and shook her by the shoulders to wake her up. Her eyes shot open, way too dark and big in the dark. Her breath was quick and ragged, and there were beads of cold sweat on her forehead. I tried to pull her into a hug, but she pulled away and curled up into a ball. Even in the dark I could see her shivering.

"Leave me alone." She said in a small voice. I grimaced and looked at her, but she had buried her face into her knees, her hair a bushy mess hiding her true expression. "Draco...please. Just...let me be a moment alone."

I said nothing, only got up from the bed and walked downstairs to the couch, where I stretched out with a blanket. The embers of the fire lighted the room dimly, and though I tried my best, I felt myself drifting off into sleep.

She woke me the second time that night, crouching there beside me. Her eyes were still big and dark, and she was still shivering. In my sleepy daze, I grabbed her by the waist and pulled her on top of me onto the couch. She seemed surprised, but as she didn't pull away I pulled the blanket over the both of us and hugged her tight, her head buried into my chest. She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes.

I probably laid there for several minutes, just simply admiring her. Her face was so calm as she steadily breathed, in sync with my own breathing. Her hand was draped over the edge of the couch, her fingers loosely intertwined with mine.

. . .

The morning sun filled the room, making the little furniture we had there (for now) look softer than what it had seemed like in the dead of night. The warm weight of Hermione on my chest felt perfect, and I didn't dare to move in fear of waking her. She was hugging me like a huge teddy, her eyes squeezed tight like a little baby. I couldn't help but smile at the sight before me. She looked even smaller in her oversized t-shirt and pyjama shorts, and through the veil of curly brown hair her face, though scrunched, looked angelic. Carefully, I slid my other hand from under her arm and began stroking her cheek and twirling her hair in my hands. Soon she was sleeping lighter, her breathing quicker. I let my hand rest on her cheek for a moment, and then suddenly her eyes shot open. The brightness of the room seemed too much for her, for she blinked rapidly and a tear slid onto her cheek. At the sight of me, she smiled and leaned in to kiss me.

"I'm sorry about last night." She mumbled.

"You don't need to apologise twice."

"When did I apologise?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"You came downstairs, and though you said nothing, I could read it in your eyes. You wouldn't have come down unless you wanted to say something. And that kiss is enough to say sorry." I grinned and placed both my hands onto her back. "Are you feeling alright?"

She brushed a strand of hair behind her ear and bit her lip for a moment. "I suppose I'm fine."

I knew she wasn't telling the whole truth. But for then I just shrugged it off. I pulled her forward and kissed her gently, looking her in the eye the whole time. They were still sad from what she had dreamed of. I was battling a fight inside. Half of me wanted to just hug her tight and make all her worries go away, and the other half wanted to dart off to find Weasel and make him suffer, like he made her suffer. But I knew it was too rash, so I did all I could and just tried to make her feel the best she should.

We got up a couple minutes later, and together we walked to the kitchen. The walls had the brand new paint on, and the whole room still smelled like paint. The new barstools didn't creak, like the old ones, as I sat down to gobble down my breakfast which consisted of muesli and yoghurt as well as some fruits. Hermione took her time preparing herself toast, and I noticed the way her figure seemed slouched.

Just one day. One night. One sentence, one person could do all that to her. I gripped my spoon in my hand tight and gritted my teeth, resisting the urge to punch something. I didn't like the way Hermione took the pain so easily. I felt outraged just seeing that someone did that to her.

I slammed my glass onto the table with far more force than what I had intended, but Hermione only gave me a quick glance and then turned her attention back to her book. I quickly stuffed my plate and glass into the dishwasher and then hurried upstairs, into the empty room. I locked the door and went over to the window, leaning against the windowsill. I gazed at the landscape before me - the sea, welling waves and white crests. The light cover of snow that covered everything.

Sighing, I pulled at my hair and tried to calm myself down, succeeding at it - fifteen minutes later.


	4. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, dead?

**This took a LONG time for me to write, hope you people appreciate the effort I put in this thing.**

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**Hermione's POV**

We were sitting on the couch one night. I had my book, and Draco had the Daily Prophet in his hand.

"Hey, listen to this. Potter and Weaselette are dating. How could he ever score with a girl, I me-"

I looked up from my book. "Draco. They are my friends. Shut up."

He looked at me for a while before replying. "You mean your friends who insulted you, hurt you, caused you to cut yourself, and who despised you?"

Something in his tone of voice hurt me really, really bad. "They're still my friends." I said in a small voice.

"They don't deserve your sympathy."

I looked at him, my eyes shooting daggers. "They are still my friends." I said, accenting each word.

"Why do you still care for them? You can't go back."

"You don't understand." I muttered, hoping dearly that he would just shut up.

"I don't! It's stupid!"

My head shot up and my eyes glared at him. "Are you calling me stupid?"

He looked at me. "No. You should just...yes, I think that considering this situation you ar-"

I slammed my book onto the table and rushed out of the living room, upstairs and onto our bathroom. I slammed the door shut and slumped against the door, tears streaming down my cheeks. I didn't quite know why I was so mad.

For that moment, I hated him. Everything felt like one big mistake.

_You are stupid._

_No._

_He hates you._

_No._

_You chose wrong._

_No..._

I wailed and buried my head in my hands.

_He hates you, your friends hate you. You have nowhere to go. You've wasted your life._

_I haven't..._

_Yes you have and you know it. Finish it. Stop lying to yourself._

My hands were shaking, and my breath was ragged. I saw the small razor knife beside the sink, the one we had used to cut a few boxes open a few days ago. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to ignore the temptation to just end it. I knew this was a stupid reason to be mad. He had just gotten upset and I'd gotten upset from that. But during these few days I had felt as though I could explode from anything.

Flashes, memories, passed my eyes. Ron, his eyes stormy. His hands on my wrists as he...I shook my head and clawed at my hair. I couldn't stand this anymore. It was too much. I felt like I alone was trying to stop a river from flowing.

My ears thudded as I reached out and took the knife. I shuffled over to the bath, so that it would be easi-

I shook my head and threw the knife away.

_You are such a wimp._

Tears streamed down my chin and onto my hands. _I can't do it._

_Yes you can. It's easy._

I took the knife in my hand, my whole arm shaking underneath it. The cool blade rested on my skin for a while, and I felt cold sweat on my forehead.

**Draco's POV**

The moment I heard the door slam shut I knew I had gone too far. I just hadn't been able to contain my anger at that moment. Sighing, I decided to let her be on her own for a while.

When an hour passed, and I still heard nothing from her, I began to worry a bit. There was no crying, and a few minutes backwards I had heard something clatter.

Cold fear invaded my mind as I remembered the razor knife I had left into the bathroom. The paper flew from my hands as I shot up and ran upstairs.

"Hermione!"

**Hermione's POV**

1...

The blade pierced through my skin, and the warm blood streamed down onto the floor which was already dotted with my tears. I welcomed the pain as the visions of my nightmares passed my eyes and the voice nagged inside my head.

"Hermione!"

Draco's yell seemed like an echo, far away. I lifted the blade a bit and cut again.

2...

I heard his footsteps outside the door. He knocked once, twice, thrice. "Hermione? Are you in there?"

I choked down a sob and moved the blade downwards. I could already feel the light-headedness taking over, and the pain was only numb throbbing.

3...

I bit my lip and gripped the blade tighter in my hand. The blood streamed down my arm onto the floor, colouring it a nasty crimson red. My field of vision was quickly darkening, the edges turning into a dark blur.

"Hermione! Say something!"

I could hear the fear in Draco's voice, and began to doubt what I was about to do.

_He's just acting. He doesn't really care._

The voice lulled me back into my trance, and the blade moved once again down on my wrist.

4...

My eyes were drooping, and I felt the dizziness overtake as I fell to the floor. The knife clattered from my hand, and in my daze I could still hear Draco's increasing thuds.

"Hermione, I'm breaking in." He yelled. "Alohomora!"

**Draco's POV**

The door clicked open, and even before I saw her I saw the blood.

She was lying in a deep crimson red puddle, her eyes half open. The knife was somewhere near her hand, and when I saw her other hand my blood ran cold.

There were four deep cuts on her forearm, all of them bleeding a load.

" 'Mione!" I cried. I ran to her side and turned her to her side. "Tergeo."

The bloody puddle vanished in a moment, but more kept on coming. I saw how near she was to losing herself, and I quickly darted to the closet where I kept my healing ointments and quickly rummaged it for the small bottle which contained brown liquid.

Though the sight of her injuries caused me to shudder, I pulled her into my lap and bared her arm completely, then began dabbing the cuts with a small towel I had poured the essence of dittany onto. Immediately her cuts began to close, though slowly and she whimpered each time I dabbed at a cut. Before I took some bandages out, I kissed each cut gently, then wrapped her arm. I before I scooped her up into my lap and just hugged her, held her close. I buried my face into her hair and whispered:

"Please don't do that ever again."

Tears fell from my eyes onto her hair and face, and for a moment I just sat there with her in my arms, listening to her unsteady heartbeat. Her eyes were closed, and it seemed that she was only concentrating on breathing.

She had been very, very close to succeeding. The cuts were very deep, far deeper than last time. She had injured her main vessel, and if I hadn't had that potion she would've died.

"Draco..." She whimpered. I immediately loosened my grip of her.

"Am I hurting you?"

To my surprise, she flung her good arm around me and hugged me tight. "Don't let go."

I smiled and hugged her tightly, my forehead resting against hers. I looked her in the eye and kissed her nose. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't you." Hermione said quietly. "I...just...I don't know how to explain..."

"The voice?" I asked her.

She was surprised. "How do you know about the voice?"

"I saw this dream back at the forests, and well, I heard this nasty voice urging you to kill yourself." I explained shortly.

She sighed and rested her forehead on my chest. "I can't stand this anymore."

I rubbed her back. "You don't need to stand it alone." I muttered.

"What can you do?" she asked miserably.

Gently, I pulled her chin so that she was looking at me. "This." And then I kissed her.

She sighed and ran her hand through my hair, smiling against my lips. In my arms, she felt even smaller than what she really was. At that moment, I forgot about everything else, everything except her. I lifted my hand and brushed her tears away with my thumb.

"Do you hate me?"

I looked at Hermione, who's eyes were wide and her mouth half open. I hugged her tighter against my chest. "Don't listen to the voice."

"Thank you." She mumbled after a while. I smiled, and groggily I managed to get to my feet with her still in my arms. I set her onto the ground, but she kept her arms around me to support herself.

I leaned backwards and reached over to the small closet where I kept my t-shirts. I pulled out one on random and looked at her. "Can you change on your own or...?"

She grimaced. "I can't move my left hand."

"May I help you?" I asked as nicely as I could.

With a sigh, she muttered a yes. I gave her a reassuring smile and helped her take off her shirt. The skin underneath it was pale and clammy, just like her hands and face were. I tried to ignore the thoughts that came to life at the sight of her in just a bra, and slipped my shirt over her. Then, after that, she managed to take off her leggings without my help.

My shirt was way too big for her, and reached her half-thigh even when she was standing as high as she could. Slowly, I cleaned her arms, face and legs of the blood with a wet towel, and finally I managed to carry her to our bed. The moment she laid her head back on the pillow she let out a sigh and her eyes closed immediately.

I watched her for a long moment before set off back into the bathroom, which I cleaned the best I could. I didn't want her to remember anything of this, nothing bad. I forcibly made myself destroy the knife, and buried it in the garden so she wouldn't find it.

It wasn't quite time for me to sleep, so I went downstairs and began to prepare her a dinner in case Hermione woke up hungry.

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I am unable to write proper fights between these two. I don't really know why. Anyone want something to happen in this story? Because I need plot twists...


	5. May I help you?

**Hello hello people**

**Read it read it people**

**Why am I writing a horrid poem. Oh well. Read and enjoy.**

**Sorry I had a mix up with the submission, this is the real version**

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**Draco's POV**

I was just mixing the sauce with the spaghetti when I heard her scream, and half in a daze darted upstairs and into our room.

She was curled up in a ball on our bed, the covers spread across the bed and the floor. Her eyes were wide open, and she looked like she'd seen a ghost. She jumped slightly at the sight of me, but relaxed when she recognised me. I slowly walked over and sat down onto the bed beside her, and touched her gently as though she could break any moment.

"Hermione...are you alright?" I asked quietly. She didn't reply, instead she threw her arms around me and hugged me tight. "Draco...I'm so scared."

Sighing, I pulled her into my lap and began twirling her hair. "What are you scared of?" I whispered into her ear. She shuddered and looked away. "The voice. I-I don't know how long I can stand her."

"What is she saying?" I asked, even though it felt quite paranoid to be talking of a voice in her head like a real person.

"That I deserve to die. She makes me see things. Memories. Flashes of the..." Her voice faded away, but she didn't need to say it for me to know what she was talking about. I nuzzled my face into her hair and breathed in the faint smell of roses her hair seemed to carry at all times. "If you want to talk, I'm here." I said.

"There is so much I would love to say, but it's...well, personal. It'll make you uncomfortable." Hermione replied in a small voice.

"You're suffering alone with your demons, I'll feel a bit uncomfortable if just it helps you." I replied. "There's dinner downstairs if you want some." I added after a long moment of silence.

She ignored my remark and sighed. "I...I'll try to explain how I feel."

I kissed her forehead. "All right."

Another sigh. "I...well,

you know all about the...voice. And...well, yes. The voice."

Silence.

"I was just sitting in the common room that night, reading a book. I couldn't sleep, so I had come downstairs so I wouldn't wake anyone else. It was way past twelve, and I didn't expect anyone to come into the common room anymore at that time. Then the portrait hole slammed open and Ron stalked in." She took a shaky breath. As she spoke, I rubbed at her back and tried my best to comfort her. "I was really surprised, because, well, it was past curfew. I could tell he was drunk, if not for the smell but also his look. When he saw me, a...grin spread across his face, a nasty grin. Then he pulled out his wand and muttered "silencio". I had already set my book down, and was looking at him with a confused expression. I don't remember what I said, but the next moment he had sat down beside me. I didn't run away, because he wasn't really...doing anything. We talked for a moment, and then suddenly his hand fell onto my thigh. I froze, but he ignored me. I asked him to take his hand off, but with his other hand he grabbed me from the neck and pulled me near. He kissed me, and then..." She grimaced and buried her face in her hands. I gave a gentle kiss onto her head, trying to hide my confusion and disgust to Weasel's actions. "I remember pushing him away and pleading him to stop. He just laughed and pushed me down onto the sofa-" A sob interrupted her, and she broke into tears. I hugged her near and just tried to make her feel comfortable.

"Hey..." I whispered. "It's alright. Hermione. It's alright. You're here, not there."

"But why? Why did he do it?" She asked, her looking at me with miserable eyes. "Was it because of who I am?"

In that moment, I couldn't think of a response. I just couldn't. So instead I closed up the small distance between us and kissed her. I could taste the saltiness of her tears on her lips, but even so I did hear a small moan of pleasure. Pulling away, I looked her in the eye. "Don't you think it was your fault. You are perfect."

I stood up and crouched a bit. "May I offer you a ride downstairs?" I asked her. She let out a little giggle and climbed onto my back. I held her tight as the two of us walked through the dark hallway and down the stairs into the kitchen where I had left the dinner. I sat her in one of the barstools while I prepared the rest of the dinner. Within minutes I was sitting beside her, both of us eating the tomato spaghetti I had prepared. The large clock on the wall showed 12:47. It was quite late.

I saw her head droop once, twice, and on the third time I managed to catch her as she fell asleep. I wasn't really surprised that she was, well, falling asleep. She had lost at least two litres of blood. Even the loss of half a litre would've caused her to be extremely tired. I gathered the limp girl in my arms and carefully climbed upstairs, watching carefully that her head didn't hit any corners or stairs as I did so. I tucked her into bed before heading downstairs to clean the dinner.

When I finally settled into bed beside Hermione, I was barely awake, and within a minute of pulling the covers over myself I was fast asleep.


	6. Cocoa moustaches

**Hayooo ;) I literally love you lovelies, stay awesome and keep on reviewing 3**

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**Hermione's POV**

He was too good for me.

I knew he was.

Here I was, a girl with psychological trauma that was bad enough to cause her to cut herself and wake up screaming. And he never complained of the trouble I caused for him.

It was odd, certainly odd. I would've never thought that my childhood enemy would be the one to care for me the most, let alone the love of my life who I was to marry in only a few months.

I felt as though we were rushing with rash decisions. We were hardly across the border of being a grown up, and yet we had our own house and were to get married while our friends still were in school. Well, I doubt that Harry was in school anymore, considering the situation of Voldemort and such...

Our fake names worked quite fine - nobody had questioned our identity, not a single one. Though every now and then we met a british wizard or witch, and only a couple times had someone stopped us in the street and asked us:

"Do you happen to be the young Malfoy?"

To which we would reply: "No, signor, though he gets it a lot for his hair."

Nobody ever questioned it twice. I had persuaded Draco to get a bit messier haircut, which had changed his outlook a lot, and for the better.

Valentine's day was nearing, and I knew very well that Draco was too busy to prepare a big surprise for me. Therefore I had taken upon that task, and I had confronted Draco of that means, telling him that it was my turn to pamper him that one day.

But that was still three weeks ahead, and for the current moment I was sitting at a small table in the small cafe that I went to every day when I had the time. I hadn't quite yet found myself a job, and Draco was at his own right now.

The waitress brought me my caffe macchiato and small bun, and I thanked her. Turning back to my sketchbook, I tapped my pencil to my lips, trying my best to think of something to draw.

There were only two other customers sitting at the little round tables outside the cafe that crispy January morning. An elder man, who was content reading his paper, and a young girl who seemed my age. Her fiery red pigtails reminded me a bit of Ginny, but her outlook differed from the Weasley girl far more. She was wearing a blast of colour, but for some reason it didn't look bad on her, quite the opposite. Rainbow-colored leggings, brown mocca boots. Plain jean shorts onto which she had sown patches for sure, either on purpose or not. Her t-shirt had the name of a band I couldn't read, but the colours of it matched her scarf in a very odd way. She was wearing a long-sleeve underneath her oversized shirt, and even that looked good on her small figure.

She was definitely something interesting to draw.

I didn't see what the girl was doing, but half involuntarily I noticed myself measuring up her ratio to the table before her, and within moments my pencil was flying atop the rough paper, sketching out her pigtails with care. I lowered my gaze from her and concentrated on my drawing, taking a sip of my coffee every now and then so that my fingers wouldn't go numb. There was a nip in the air for sure, and my breath fogged each time I exhaled.

I was almost done when I heard footsteps ahead of me, and looking over my book I saw the colourful leggings and brown boots. Lifting my head up, I saw the girl I had been sketching out.

"Salve, che cosa stai disegnando?" _Hi, what're you drawing?_

It took me a moment to process what she had said.

"Ehh...questa scena, i tavolini dei caffé...voi..." _Eh...this scene, the cafe tables...you..._

It felt odd saying that, let alone admitting that I was staring at her.

"Lei parla inglese?" Her melodic voice rang in my head for a moment before I was able to reply.

"Yes. You?"

She laughed for a moment, then sat down into the seat across of me. She offered me her hand across the table. "I'm Stella."

I shook her hand and almost said my name. Almost. "My name is Emilie." I smiled at her.

"You don't seem italian. Where are you from?" Stella asked.

"I'm from England, though I've been living abroad for a while now." I said. "How about you?"

Stella levitated her things over to our table, meaning her sketchbook and cup of coffee. "I'm originally from England, but my mother is italian, so I've lived in Rome for quite a while." She said. "May I see your drawing?"

"If I can see yours." I replied, handing her my sketchbook. She laughed and pushed her sketchbook towards me. I took the book in my hands, the worn-out leather cover stained with paint, oil and chalk. Flipping to a random page, I gasped at just the detail in which she had drawn her coffee cup. Beside it was a sketch of the older man who had left a moment ago, and below that was a sketch of me.

My hair seemed oddly orderly, and she had accented the ring in my hand far more than how it really appeared. I couldn't help but smile at the way she had drawn my expression, my brows furrowed and my shoulders slouched.

"You are a very good drawer." I said, flipping to another random page. "And a painter too."

Stella laughed. "I suppose. You're good too, though I see that your pencil isn't the best quality."

I nodded. "I've been trying to find a proper shop for artist's equipment for weeks, but failed at it. You don't happen to know any?" I asked as I gulped down the last of my coffee. I slipped my bun into the large pocket of my jacket and stood up, slinging my satchel over my shoulder. "I can take you there, it's in a nearby muggle town so you need to know exactly where to apparate..."

A flash of denial hit my mind, but I overlooked it. I doubted that she'd do anything bad to me, and I was taller than her. I nodded and took the arm she was offering me, and then the scenery changed.

We were standing on a grassy hill before a small muggle town, the main street dotted with several different shops and cafes. Stella let me adore the view for a moment before leading me down the hill, towards the town.

"Wait! Shouldn't you put your wand in your pocket first?" I pointed out.

"Oh yeah, right." She laughed and stuffed it into her jacket.

The cobbled streets of the little town were nostalgic, and as Stella directed us through small alleys and such I fell more and more in love with the little houses and shops of this little town. It was like a miniature, italian-version of Hogsmeade.

The shop into which Stella took me was named Pennelli e colori di Fabio, with the text painted in all possible colours of the visible spectrum.

The store itself was quite small, and each shelf was filled with all possible equipment an artist could ever ask for. The cashier was empty, and quite small. The shelves behind it that reached three meters upwards all the way to the ceiling were lined with small drawers, onto which someone had placed a tape and text explaining it's contents. "Pennelli piccoli" was inscribed onto the one which was currently open, and inside of it I saw loads of tiny brushes. There were three shelves in the store, on which the paints were placed. There were tiny tubes as well as large bottles of acrylic, oil and water colours. On the farthest wall there were piles of chalk, pastel and charcoal boxes. Another wall was lined with sketchbooks, papers, erasers, rulers, and - pencils.

It was an artist's heaven. There was a curtain beside the cashier, from which I could see that someone was working inside it.

"Signor Fabio?" Stella asked.

An old, chubby man came out, wiping his hands with a cloth from what seemed like paint. "Ah, Stella. And who is your lovely friend?" He asked kindly.

"I'm Emilie. Your store is gorgeous." I said.

"Ah, thank you." The man said. "Is there anything I may help you two with?"

Lucky enough I had my purse with me.

"I'm running out of cobalt blue, and my small brush no. 5 broke apart, so..." Stella said. I walked around the store, looking at everything I saw. Every now and then I found myself at the pencil stand, and finally managed to choose a set of fifteen pencils of different sizes and a large sketchbook, with a thin leather cover and slightly yellowed paper. I also took an eraser and then headed to the cashier to pay. "I'd like to have these." I smiled.

"Do you have a sketchbook with you?" Fabio asked. I was surprised, but nodded. "Would you mind if you could, um, donate one of your drawings for the wall?"

"What wall?"

Both Fabio and Stella pointed at the wall with the door.

"I collect everyone's drawings here. It's the hall of fame, if I do say so myself." Fabio snickered. The whole wall was covered with drawings, some yellowed and old, some brand new. I pulled out my sketchbook and took out the most beautiful drawing I had, a detailed drawing of a sunflower Draco had brought me from work one day. I went over and pinned it to the wall, right beside a drawing which was clearly made by a young child.

"All right, that would make fifteen euros." I handed the man the money, and thanked him as we stepped out of the store.

The sun beamed down at us, and though it was still slightly cold I could clearly feel the spring making it's entrance.

"So, what did you think?" Stella asked me.

"I think it was absolutely marvellous." It was odd that only within about an hour we'd become friends, and I suddenly realised how I'd missed this. Laughing, Stella and I walked through a few other stores, the merchandise ranging from clothing to wickedly strange eco-stuff made of recycled material.

I didn't even notice the time passing before the clock on my watch was suddenly showing that it was seven in the evening. I'd easily spent five hours with this vivid girl. She was just simply so easy to be friends with.

"Listen, Stella...I think I should get going back. It's been a lovely day, but..." I shrugged. Stella pouted for a moment, then laughed. "I've seen you at the cafe before. Tomorrow morning, twelve sharp at the cafe? We could go for a drawing picnic at the beach or something."

I laughed. "I suppose you don't have anything sensible to do, like a job."

"Neither do you."

"I'll be there at twelve sharp. We can go to my place."

"Oh, where do you live?"

"Villa Lucia."

"Ooohh... I adore that house. I would've bought it if I had the money." Stella teased. "I have a flat in that orange building near Rosa's."

I ripped a piece of paper from my old sketchbook and quickly jotted down my number onto it, then handed it to Stella. "Here. If a dude answers, it's my boyfriend Will Brenton."

She quirked an eyebrow. "A boyfriend? Now, you must tell me all about him tomorrow..." Then she handed me a piece of paper with her phone number. "There is no chance anyone else will answer, unless I happen to die overnight..." She giggled and grabbed my arm, and we apparated back to Guiliano.

We parted at the square, and I stopped by at the supermarket to buy two tubs of ice cream before heading to our little villa.

Even from half a mile away I could see Draco was home, because the whole house radiated light in the dark, crispy night. There was a nip in the air again, and it was snowing gently.

I stepped inside, and a surge of warmth flew against my face. The warm crackle of the fire and the distinct smell of what seemed like cookies made me smile as I took off my jacket and hung it in the closet.

Draco came out of the kitchen, wearing an apron saying "Bacio il cuoco", meaning 'Kiss the cook', and a large smile across his face. "Where have you been?"

"Just shopping." I smiled and handed him the two tubs of ice cream. I gave him a quick peck on the lips as I brushed past him into the kitchen.

There was a magnetic chalkboard on one of the walls, covering the whole wall. Onto it we had written and drawn several things, including a quick sketch-portrait of Draco and a list of important phone numbers, located conveniently above the house phone. I saw the three baking trays, all filled with chocolate cookies. On the stove I noticed a big pot which spread a lovely scent of beef stew.

I walked over to our phone list and added Stella's phone number on it, writing STELLA beside it with large letters. I was so concentrated with decorating the letters that I didn't notice Draco sneaking up to me before his hands were on my hips and his chin resting on my collarbone. "Who's Stella?" He asked.

"She's a girl I met at the cafe today. She's quite a vivid personality, and, well, the topic turned to drawing and she mentioned she knew a good art supply store. So we went there and I lost track of time..." I tried to explain the days' events short, but failed miserably.

"So in other words you found a friend?"

"Yes."

"That's great! I've been worried about you staying here all alone as I go to work. You know, you can take a job if you want to..." He said, joy radiating from his voice.

"I haven't found the perfect job quite yet." I replied, turning around. "I'm dying of hunger, what've you prepared?"

"Soup." He replied. I hugged him, thankful that he understood I've spent the whole day outside. I really needed something hot to warm up my numb fingers. Despite the fact that I had the most fun I've had in a while.

The warm soup really warmed my insides, and the hot cocoa and warm chocolate chip cookies after that were just icing on the cake.

"So, what's this Stella character like?"

I looked up from my cocoa and smiled. "She's very vivid, and has dark red hair. Definitely a creative person. You should've seen her drawings. She's sort of an underdog, in a way. But in some odd way she embraces it and has connections in her underdog world."

Draco nodded. "I would love to meet her." He took a long sip of cocoa, and when he lowered his mug I saw that the whipped cream had left a moustache on his upper lip. A single giggle escaped my throat, and Draco looked my questioningly. "Why don't you have a moustache yet?"

I giggled a bit more, and when they had subsided I took a long sip of my cocoa, making sure that I got a moustache much like Draco did.

Pulling out a camera from his pocket, Draco stood up and gestured me to come too. He set it on automatic and placed it on the table. "Smile." He laughed and pulled me into the range of the camera. I of course was shocked - the last thing I wanted was this to be immortalised into a photo. But Draco's laughter and merriness was definitely contagious or then he'd slipped something into my drink, because after a few shots I joined in with the silly poses and laughter.

The last photo was of us two kissing in the firelight, the moustaches long gone and my hair all messy. And I do admit that I slipped that photo into my pocket to be treasured forever.


	7. Kill her

Helloooooooo sorry it took meh so long X) Here you go

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**Draco's POV**

I was truly happy for her that she'd found a friend. I mean, I already had made friends with Aleksander, Guiseppe and Johan, all from work.

My job was exactly what I'd wanted - the complete opposite of office work. The company was an outdoor design & gardening service, meaning that most of the days I spent planting flowers and cutting grass. Every now and then I was let to collaborate with Johan, the head designer, and give him my ideas of how a certain park, garden or lawn look like. It wasn't my dream job, but I knew very well that if I only worked hard enough I might get promoted.

We were laying in our bed, the room dark. Just from her breathing I knew that Hermione wasn't asleep. So when she shuffled to my side and hugged me, I wasn't surprised at all.

"Draco?"

"Hm?"

"Tell me about yourself. What caused you to leave."

The request stunned me for a moment. "Why?"

"It's all been about me lately. About my problems. My problems may be more visible, but don't you deny that you don't have anything. You were preparing to "kill" off yourself too, just in a different way. You were preparing to kill the "Draco Malfoy" everyone knew. You wanted to disappear just as much as I did." She murmured as she came nearer, so near that she could've kissed me if she just turned her head slightly.

"My problems...I don't even know what they are myself. Well, you know about the task that was set upon me. And...well, my father always told me what to do. In fact, everyone did. I felt like a masked puppet, caught on the strings that forced it to dance all over and do things without it being able to contribute at all. I was forced to act like a prick to everyone who is saw. Especially you." I gave a gentle kiss to her cheek.

"I suppose something just crossed the then. The task?" Hermione asked gently.

"No...not the task."

"Then what was it?"

In the dark, I tried to gather my nerves before replying. "Because...my father found my diary." I sucked in a deep breath. "He read it, and...he saw what I had written about you. He got outraged, and told me that I was never, ever, allowed to see such a...muggleborn as you are." I turned to look at Hermione, who's eyes were wide open from surprise. "Aw, honey..." The whimper escaped her lips, and I couldn't help the smile creeping onto mine. I pulled her nearer and gave her a tender kiss, appreciating every single moment I shared with her.

"So, tell me. What _did_ you write about _me_?" Hermione asked with a twinkle in her eye. I groaned and cursed ever telling her. "It's too embarrassing."

"Considering that I am the recipient of the text and I suppose you didn't write any porn of me, then you must tell me."

"I can't..."

She leaned in and gave me a lingering kiss. "How about now?"

"I told you. It's too embarrassing." I muttered, my cheeks flushed.

"What can be too embarrassing for a engaged couple?" Hermione pointed out. I sighed.

"_Her bushy brown hair/_

_Her pale skin so fair._

_Those brown eyes I wish to be locked with mine/_

_That girl is a beauty so divine._

_I adore her beautiful smile/_

_I wish it would linger upon me for awhile._

_Her plush lips, pink like a rose/_

_Fit perfectly with her cute little nose._

_She is a forbidden fruit/_

_A love would I never admit."_

I looked at Hermione, who had clearly gone speechless. "There. Happy now?" I asked half jokingly.

"It's not embarrassing." She murmured. "It's the most romantic thing I have ever heard of." And then she kissed me with far more passion than ever before.

We fell asleep there, her head resting on my chest, our fingers intertwined loosely and my other hand firmly around her. But this time it was my turn to experience the nightmare. Darn.

_I was standing in the dining hall of the Manor. My father was standing nearby, reading some sort of book. Suddenly, he threw the book from his hands and glared at me._

_"You! In love! With a filthy mudblood!" He yelled._

_"Y-yes." I heard myself say._

_"You filthy boy. How can you be a Malfoy with such interests. Mudbloods aren't even worthy of being titled human beings! They're animals! Creatures below us!" He snarled. _

_I looked at the black marble floor beneath me, my cheeks flushed._

_"I will teach you. I will teach you how to deal with Mudbloods." _

_The tone of his voice scared the living hell out of me, and I frantically looked around for anyone else. When the door to the hall slammed open, and a dark figure came in dragging an unconscious Hermione, I was prepared to scream in both fear and surprise._

_I couldn't see her face, but there were bloody bruises all over her hands and feet as the death eater threw her onto the floor before me. Each whimper that issued from her caused my heart to clench in such a way I felt as though I should just die now. I couldn't stand the sight of her before me, unable to help her._

_"Look at her. Such filth, and yet, she is where she belongs. At our feet!" Lucius came nearer and kicked her in the stomach, causing her to yelp in the most heartbreaking way. Something snapped inside me, and I pushed him away from her. "Leave her alone." I snarled in the most threatening tone I could. Lucius's eye twitched for one, two seconds and then he raised his wand._

_"Imperio!"_

_I knew I'd lost hope the moment I heard those words._

_I turned my gaze back to Hermione, but this time all emotions were gone, pushed to the back of my head by some invisible force. They were still there, but unable to contribute to my actions._

**_Kill her..._**

_I raised my wand, the incantation ready in my mouth._

**_Kill her..._**_ The voice changed. I turned to look at my father, and yelped when in his place stood a whole other person. Lord Voldemort himself, sneering at me with the most horrible way._

**_Kill her..._**

_I couldn't stand the temptation. I wasn't able to resist his power. Slowly, I raised my wand before Hermione and the two words slipped past my lips._

_"Avada kedavra." They came like a whisper, but unlike anything else a ray of green light cast from my wand and hit her square on the chest. The power of the spell was enough to move her just enough so that I could see her face - those empty brown eyes, those dead lips. The tiny drop of blood that trickled from the corner of her mouth._

"Draco!"

My eyes shot open, and I sighed in relief at the sight of Hermione in front of me, a worried expression on her face. "Are you al-"

Without uttering a word, I sat up and pulled her into my arms, yearning just to hear her breathe and to feel her pulse underneath my fingers. To know that she was alive. My other hand was gently pressing her head onto my chest, and my heart made a tiny flip when I heard her take a deep breath. I couldn't help the tears running down my cheeks and falling to her hair. Hermione must've noticed it, for she pulled her head from my chest and looked me in the eye.

She had lit one of the two lamps on our bedside tables, and in the faint light of it I saw her expression, a mixed look of confusion and worry. "What's wrong?"

I tried to say it, but I only choked up and looked away from her. I jolted a tad when I felt her hand touch my cheek, gently as a feather. I was plain surprised by how cool her fingers were in comparison to my skin.

"Please, just tell me."

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a few deep breaths. "I-I'm so sorry..."

"For what?"

"I-in my dream, I...Lucius was there. And...he read my diary. He got outraged, and then suddenly you were there, with bruises all over. He...he turned into Lord...you-know-who and...he made me kill you." I couldn't stop the tears slipping from my eyes. "It's all right, Draco, I'm here, I'm not dead." She took one of my hands and lifted it to her neck. "You can feel my pulse. I'm alive. It was just a dream."

It was so odd that she was speaking much like I did when she had a nightmare.

But it was true. Her pulse underneath my fingers and the gentle airflow that came when she exhaled were proof that she was alive.

Like reading my mind, she pulled me nearer and hugged me. "It's all right Draco. We all have our demons." She then chuckled a tad. "I suppose we're both broken in our ways."

It was true.

She was broken more visibly, her posture still somewhat infirm and her voice a bit frail at times. She still had nightmares, waking in the dead of night with rapid breath and a horrified expression on her face.

I myself realised now that she wasn't the only one broken. I myself had my fears which dominated my actions. I was afraid Lucius would find out about me. About her, about the house, about us. I couldn't risk that.

A flash of her, bloodied, bruised and dead on the floor before me passed my vision, and I clenched as though someone had punched me in the stomach for it was just as painful. Hermione again noticed it and stroked my cheek gently. "Draco. Look at me."

Slowly, I lifted my eyes upon hers. They were well alive, not lifeless as they had been in my vision. She looked me in the eye for long before shaking her head and sighing. "The flashes are the worst, I know."

At first I found it odd that she'd read my mind, but then I remembered how she was following her nightmares. Many times had she squeezed her eyes shut and clenched in my arms, her fists clenched as though she was fighting off an invisible demon.

Silently, I laid back onto the mattress and pulled her near to me, wishing only to hear her heartbeat as I drifted off into sleep. But only seconds before I did, I leaned in closer to her and whispered into her ear.

"I love you."

The words slipped off my tongue as easily like water, and I felt her shuffle nearer to me right before I felt her lips on mine. "And I love you." She sighed, resting her head on my collarbone before drifting off to sleep.

. . .

I woke late in the morning to find Hermione absent and our room filled by light. There was a note on my bedside table, and I read it a gentle smile on my face.

_Honey, you don't need to worry about work. Your boss called earlier and said that because half the staff are sick due to a influenza epidemic the rest of the week after Valentine's is off. _

_Love you,_

_'Mione_

I sighed in relief and flung my feet over the side of the bed, glad that I'd have two more days with my girl than planned.

I felt somewhat weak and dizzy when I stood up, but I blamed it on sleeping too long and left for downstairs.

I found Hermione in the kitchen, a pile of pancakes on the table and some other breakfast supplies spread across. She had busied herself with her brand new sketchbook, drawing something with such concentration I had never seen before.

She noticed me only when I was mere meters away from her, and she measured me up and down for a moment.

"You look pale. Are you sure you're feeling all right?"

I was surprised. "I'm perfectly fine."

She stood up and came near me, lifting her hand to my forehead. I saw her eyebrows furrow, and muttering things to herself she walked to our emergency cabinet.

Hermione rummaged the cabinet a bit before finally finding what she'd been looking for, an odd long object that reminded me of a pen. There was a tiny screen at the side of it, as well as two buttons.

"Sit down." She instructed me, and I watched her warily as she neared me with that doomsday object.

"What is that?" I asked, and cursed as I noticed myself fret. She at me in surprise, then chuckled. "It's a thermometer. Don't wiza- oh." She looked at me, then the thermometer. "Well, let's do it the muggle way."

I couldn't help the curiosity arousing inside me. "How?"

"Okay, so I'll press this button here. You then put it into one of your armpits, firmly enough. When it beeps again, you take it out."

"Muggles are odd." I muttered, but did as she said and took the pen, putting it the way she had showed me, digging it somewhat into my skin.

"Now what?"

"Don't move until it beeps. If you move it takes longer." She said and went over to her sketchbook, bringing it to me. "What do you think?"

Before me lay a gorgeous sketch of our house, the garden in it's full summer bloom. The sea stretched out behind it, and even the tiniest detail was there. The rose tree was flowering; the orange tree was bearing apples. Slowly, I traced the drawing with my finger, simply admiring her skill.

"You're amazing."

The thermometer beeped, and I took it out. It had a number that said nothing to me.

"What's the number?" She asked me. I handed her the thermometer, and at the sight of the number she gasped and put her hand to her mouth.

"What?"

"You're sick for sure. 39.4 is a lot."

I now understood why I'd felt dizzy when I stood up.

"You go upstairs and get into bed, I'll bring you breakfast and medicine." She ordered with a restrained smile. I opened my mouth to protest, but she shook her head, crossed her arms across her chest and said: "Do I need to repeat myself?"

I flashed a grin and got up, ignoring the dizzy feeling in my head.

It was far harder to climb the stairs than what I had thought, and I was only glad to sit down onto the bed and relax.


End file.
